Yesterday Was a Long Day

Yesterday was an adventure. We went to the "big" town to pick up guinea pig supplies at PetSmart. At least I thought that was the reason we went. Turns out, Husband had ulterior motives.

First of all, Baby Girl threw a tantrum because she didn't want to go. This is becoming a regular thing again. I thought she'd grown out of this phase, guess not. She was having no part of it until Husband told her we were going to go ride the carousel at the mall. Then she couldn't get out the door fast enough.

Apparently we were not the only people headed to PetSmart that day. The place was packed! And everyone (but us) had their dogs with them. The kids loved it. I was fascinated by a Morgan horse out front. It was HUGE! I think it's back was as high as my head. It was beautiful. And on top of that, they had chinchilla's in the store. I love watching them, but don't think I'd ever own one. Then again, I never thought I'd own cows and chickens.

After we picked up an igloo, some toys, and vitamins for the Guinea Pigs at home, Husband asked a sales clerk if they had any G.P.'s at the store. She took us to see them and I was busy looking for a hairless rat that was supposed to be in one enclosure (it's that whole "fascination with things that freak you out" thing... my mom can spend hours in the reptile house at the zoo, but sees a snake in the yard and can't move). Suddenly I hear Husband say, "We'll take that one." What?! Didn't we just get two of these things yesterday? "This one can be B.B.'s." Since I'm sure he's noticed he doesn't have his own G.P.

We left PetSmart one G.P. heavier. Husband wanted it because it's the smooth coat variety. I prefer the fuzzy two we already have.

Oh, they're no longer nameless. The smooth one started out as "Big Ben" but this morning we discovered he is most likely a she. Now her name is Bailey courtesy of Baby Girl since B.B. isn't old enough to pick a name himself. She also named one Alex after the lion in Madagascar. #1 Son named his Giraffe. Rather creative I think.

On a side note, that reminds me of a turtle we had when I was in high school. We found it in the road and rescued it from heavy traffic. Unfortunately it met with tragedy in a wash tub in our backyard, but before that its name was Puppy and it ate cat food. I think we caused the poor thing to have an identity crisis.
Then my brother rescued a second turtle after I left for college. My mom called to tell me about it. It lived in a Rubbermaid tub in his bed room. Mom named it Wesley after the hero in The Princess Bride. Each night she'd tell it, "Good night. Good work. You'll most likely be dead in the morning." Wesley lived long enough to be released into the wild somewhere along the Natchez Trace.

So far Husband has done all the cleaning and care taking. I hope it lasts. I have enough small creatures to clean up after. He's also set up camp in a kitchen chair next to the G.P.'s cage. He watches them constantly.

B.B. takes a running start and belly flops on the linoleum in front of the cage. He's fascinated by them. He really wants to handle them, but can't be trusted to pet nicely just yet.

On a very sad note, we had to put Dagmar down yesterday. Husband has suspected for quite a while that she had cancer. I kept putting him off, saying she was just thin. I was sure she'd fatten up. Her weight has always fluctuated. He mentioned it again yesterday.
When we came home I took a good look at her and realized just how ill she was. She's never been the healthiest dog; Prone to skin tumors and yeast infections, eye infections and joint trouble. She was only 4 but she could hardly put weight on her back legs. She was wasting away to nothing.

Husband said he'd known what he'd have to do for quite sometime but hadn't worked up the nerve yet. I cried more yesterday than I did when I found out Bubba and Princess had to have D.D. put down. That was strange for me.

We haven't told the kids yet. Part of me just wants to skip it. We have so many animals, they don't always notice when one "goes missing." But I'm pretty sure they'll miss Dagmar. It's kinda' hard not to her being a Great Dane and all.

And on top of that, Baby Girl started crying last night when I tucked her in. We had just read The Giving Tree but it didn't affect her that much. When I asked what was wrong she said, "I don't want you to die when you get old."

This has been a reoccurring issue since her great-grandfather died in October. She wasn't particularly close to him (I had to show her a picture so she'd be sure who he was), but she still says she misses him. It was her first real experience with death. I told her Grandpa is in heaven with God, but she's not sure he's having any fun. She's also having a rough time figuring out just how old you have to be when you die. 30 is pretty old to her, so she's getting worried about me.

One positive note yesterday: I got to eat Chinese. That's a pretty rare thing for me.